Time is dancing
by eau de toilette
Summary: Collection of rivetra writings during different times and alternate universes. Because rivetra will never be enough.
1. Ice rink

_A/N: Some of my small rivetra writings that I post on tumblr will be uploaded on here. This ship still needs lots of love. This was for dear Petra´s birthday. Based on my head canon in which both Levi and Petra are ballet dancers, but since Levi is much older, he's soon to retire so…_

* * *

The ice-skating rink was gathered with all kinds of people of different ages and winter clothing. Snow hasn't arrived yet to the city, but the feeling of coldness and foggy air were tangible to everyone.

Petra, alongside Oluo and Eld, were skating freely across the ice. Since it was her birthday and she got the day free at the dance company, the young woman mentally prepared herself to spend the day at home watching some unpopular movies -her dad was away- but unsurprisingly, the guys brought her a small chocolate cake and a pretty light blue scarf, and insisted to take her skating. She couldn't resist after all.

Besides ballet, skating was one of her favorite sports, perhaps of the similarities between dancing and skating in a graceful way. There was also something exhilarating at maneuvering pirouettes on the cold ground and the feel of the clicking skates in the moment of regaining speed.

"Look, Gunther and Eren are coming."

"Hey there Petr-" Exclaimed the blue eyed boy jovially, suddenly falling to the ground in seconds.

"Be more careful next time brat." said Oluo in his typical fashion manner.

"Here Eren, let me help you" Petra held him firmly, watching the brunette regaining his composure. "You aren't good at skating, are you?"

"Mikasa is better. You don't have to worry."

"In that case, let's skate together. You're quick at learning things, so it might help you a little"

"Thank you Miss Petra for being so nice." Eren smiled brightly. She was a sweetheart. No wonder why everybody was fond of her.

It was going well for some moments, until someone exclaimed: "Look who's here"

Petra certainly did not want to look.

"It's Mister Levi! Hanji and Erwin are there too. Let's go and say…"

"Eh, I don't think that's a good idea." interrupted the young woman nervously.

"Why not?" asked Eren, uncertainness on his face for some seconds. "Oh, I see."

"It's okay Eren." Petra forced a smile. "Do you think you can make it on your own now?"

"I'm bloody sure I can" Even though his speed wasn't the best, at least it wasn't as clumsy as the first time. This thought comforted her a little.

A pair of impassive eyes were looking at her the whole time but she refused by all means to take a glance back.

It was in the moment when she was following Gunther's skating speed, and while trying to keep his pace, her balance failed which made her fall to the cold ground.

A pair of hands appeared from nowhere, guiding her to regain her composure. One of her knees was hurting.

"My knee hurts."

The man´s hands remained on her arms.

"I can make it on my own." said Petra frustrated, trying miserably to put his hands off on her.

"Fuck no, you can't." replied Levi "Your face says it all" He took her firmly and lead her to a solitary bench.

They sat together for a long time, awkward silence filling the wintery atmosphere. Petra took a look across the ice rink. At least the boys were having fun. Quite disappointed, she started taking off her skates in a methodic way.

"Is your knee still hurting?"

"A little."

"Good."

Again, that silence.

"You haven't answered my texts." said Levi in his usual voice.

"And why should I?" replied the petite woman. Her feet were feeling colder without the skates. It was a strange but pleasant feeling.

"You seemed to be having fun with that _brat_."

"You're a jerk. Do you know that?"

"Petra, look at me."

At the lack of an answer, Levi held her chin roughly, making her too look directly at him.

"Let me explain…"

"No."

"Shit woman, you're so fucking difficult to please. I'm not a toy."

"I just wanted to spend my birthday with _you_." Petra said in a low whisper. Suddenly playing with the hem of her jumper became more interesting.

"I know." Replied Levi slowly. "But you know it hasn't been easy for me this year."

Now he was waiting for a proper answer.

"It's okay Levi, I understand." And she did. But due to his nature, it has always been hard to approach someone like him. They both knew it since the start.

"I brought you something." the dark haired man gave her a tiny box coming from one of his pockets.

A small red bow.

"I know its shit but I've seen you having the struggle to keep you hair in order during rehearsals, since it's bloody short and I thought this one might look good on you." The difficulty of finding the proper words made her melt inside somehow. He wasn't a man of a lot of words after all.

"I still love you, you know." Said Petra moments later, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you too, Petra." Levi replied softly, wrapping his arms around her in a possessive but gentle manner. "Happy birthday" He whispered, and he kissed her chastely on her lips for a long time. There was neither malice nor lust in his display of affection, he just needed to feel her closer to him and that was more than enough.

When Levi looked at the young woman again, she was glowing.

"Also, I got you some flowers. They're in the car. _Hanji's idea_." He clarified quickly.

"Um, Levi?"

"Hm?"

"Let's go home." Petra answered, a light blush spreading across her face. She took him by the hand, fingers wrapping firmly around each other.

That night, on the 6th of December, it started to snow.


	2. Moments

_Because we all need married! rivetra sometimes._

* * *

He found her sleeping on the couch, a small red book wrapped around her right arm. He has been gone for some minutes but, by looking at her delicate frame and the bags under her eyes, he understood that her wife was exhausted.

"Petra, let's go to the bedroom." The dark haired man moved her softly, trying to wake her up.

"Hm." She mumbled between slow breaths, nodding sleepily and uninterested.

The young woman didn't move, so Levi carried her and lead her to the bedroom. He settled Petra's sleeping form on the bed, white sheets and pillows around her, and disappeared to the bathroom for brushing his teeth.

When he came back, Petra was already awake. Even though the room was already dark -except of the dim clarity coming from the window- and a little cold, he could see her bright eyes looking at him through the darkness, waiting for something.

In the moment his back touched the mattress, Petra's legs tangled against his, her tiny hands caressing his neck.

Levi looked at her longingly. Being married haven't been easy for them, and while he was a harsh, cold and a foul mouthed man, she was sunshine, honesty and devotion.

She was lovely in her own way, especially in moments like this, in which there was only quietness and the whispers of a wintery night.

"What is it Levi?" her wife asked him, pulling herself closer as much as possible.

A frown appeared across the man's strong features, as if he remembered something that happened a long time ago.

"I'm just glad to have you."

Petra smile widened and poked his husband jokingly.

"Oh stop it Levi! I told you to forget those things, they are not real." She gave him a quick peck on his lips. "See. Just let it go."

Just let it go…Levi tried to forget everything in that moment, but the thoughts haunted him and it seemed that Petra sensed his worry, because her kisses became loving but aggressive, her hands tangled around his dark hair, and then she made a little sound while whispering across his ear "I'm here and I will always love you" so he drowned in her…in her flowery essence, in her inviting body and his worry vanished, and everything was fine.


	3. Twelve kinds of christmas

**Twelve kinds of christmas**

_A/N: I wanted to write it sooner, but translating this from my native language is not that easy sometimes. Sorry if I got some grammar wrong, I'll correct them tomorrow. Anyways, hope you like it._

* * *

**1.**  
A man with a really short height for his age, was walking with calculated speed through the streets of Manhattan.  
It was the twenty-fifth of December, but that didn't mean he had to stay at home. Work is work after all.  
He walked in direction to his right, while thinking about the huge pile of papers to check at the office. His thoughts changed when he heard a well-known Christmas carol, coming from a small group of young people that were singing at the outside of a library.  
It was in the moment in which the man crossed paths with the group, when a young girl with short _copper-ish_ hair and big eyes shouted at him jovially:  
"Merry Christmas sir!"  
The smile of that girl remained on his mind for the next days.

**2.**  
The artic weather was worse than he imagined. He hoped with all his soul to never come back to this bloody freezing place.  
That idiot of shitty glasses, of course this was on purpose.  
Even though the igloo was enough for keeping a whole team of football, it was still cold no matter what.  
The dark haired man kept himself busy analyzing the results of the annual research, when his partner of the project appeared with a box of cookies in her hands.  
"Merry Christmas Levi!" Said the young woman, with the usual smile that he became used a long time ago. She looked even more adorable with her cheeks tinged with a lovely shade of pink, because of the freezing and cruel weather.  
"Petra, I'm jewish."  
"I already know that but c'mon, some cookies might be good for you."

**3.**  
When she was five years old, in the night of Christmas eve, Petra decided to go downstairs and check if Santa already left her gifts and if he ate the butter cookies she left him in the little table next to the pine tree.  
Big was her surprise, finding her father tied from hands to feet, and could clearly see a pair or robbers sneaking through the hall.  
One of them looked at her, probably a young man on his early twenties, with short height and cold eyes. The man came closer to the girl, doing a sign so she wouldn't scream and offered a gift -from the ones he stole.  
Petra never understood the reason of his behavior in that circunstance and she still wonders years later.

**4.**  
He always knew that Hange's parties were a huge problem.  
It was in the moment of the secret friend exchange, and even though he was the most rude man ever and probably a sucker for giving presents, shitty glasses told him that the chosen one for him was a girl, who loved wearing earrings, so he went to a store and bought a fine pair of pearls and there he was, handling the small package on his hands.  
"Levi, your secret friend is Petra!"  
Shit.  
His eyes wandered over the petite figure of Petra Ral, one of the new secretaries at the office and the soft smile she gave him didn't go unnoticed.  
"Isn't this adorable?!" exclaimed Hange, a cup of wine in one of her hands, tricky ideas forming through her twisted mind. "Now go and give him a kiss Petra, tomorrow's shorty's birthday."  
"Shut the fuck up Hange, you're drunk." Exclaimed Levi annoyed.  
It was until later, when he was sitting on a couch, the young woman sat next to him.  
"So, your birthday is on Christmas?"  
"That was unnecesary information."  
"At least is an unforgettable date."  
"Tch."  
"Levi." He looked at her, he had to admit it, she was indeed pretty. All of this was shitty glasses fault. "Do you mind to go out one day together, you know, because of your birthday?" Petra waited for an answer, a little hint of shyness in her hands.  
"Sure, why not?" Replied Levi after some time of thinking, and his answer was well recieved with a dazzling smile from her.

**5.**  
"Mr. Ackerman, the coffee shop is going to be closed soon."  
It wasn't strange that the lawyer came with frecuency to the shop, even though he wasn't fond of coffee and prefered ordering black tea. Sometimes they had long but awkward talks, since Petra was one of those girls who enjoyed talking a lot and Levi…well, he was different.  
Gunther and the guys already left the shop, so she went to close the door from of the kitchen.  
When she came back to take the count of her only client, she focused in taking the empty porcelain cup, and suddenly, a male hand stopped her.  
"Petra."  
"Is something wrong? Was the tea terrible?" The amber eyed girl asked worried.  
"You don't have to be that formal with me. Tomorrow is my birthday."  
_Why was he still holding her hand?_  
"Oh, in that case, you should've told me sooner so I would've got you a gift."  
"I want you to go to dinner with me."  
"Huh?"  
"Shit Petra. I've looked at you and noticed _the way_ you always treated me, and I wondered…you know. I've waited months for asking you so you better have an answer."  
The young woman was wonderstruck. He knew Levi wasn't a man of romanticisms but by the way he was looking expectantly at her, somehow, she understood the sincerity on his words.  
"Yes. I'll go out with you." And Petra sweared she was blushing in that moment.  
"Alright then."

**6.**  
_"Why?"_  
She couldn't believe it, all of her effort in the dinner she had prepared for him, on Christmas Eve for God's sake.  
"Don't tell me why Petra. You already know it, all of this has been problems and more problems. And you know what? I'm fucking tired." The man was already on the principal door, five years of dating slipping through her fingers and dissapearing like the foggy winter that never existed.  
"Levi, I love you." Insisted the young woman with tears on her eyes, her voice breaking through the room.  
"But I _don't_."

**7.**  
The young nurse was finishing her last round after the whole day of work.  
She was relieved, but somehow, felt a little pressured because the dinner wasn't done at home and papa was going to visit her.  
"Mr. Ackerman, do you need something?" In the last month, she became used to check the patient, that was dealing with a terrible illness.  
The dark haired man looked at her for a long time.  
"Are you leaving Mrs. Ral?"  
"Yes, my work is done for today." Petra smiled, however, she couldn't avoid the paleness on his skin and the hollowness of his eyes.  
"Tomorrow is my birthday." Said Levi nonchalant, like if they were friends from a long time ago.  
"Really? In that case, I promise you to bring you a gift tomorrow."  
"Yes, tomorrow." Whispered the man so softly that Petra could hear him from the distance and her heart constricted at the terrible truth.  
_Why does this feels like a goodbye?_  
"Merry Christmas Mr. Ackerman."  
"Same goes for you, Mrs. Ral."

**8.**  
"What the fuck is going on?" The thug asked angrily at seeing the static figure of his partner.  
"Eh Levi, I think we killed the wrong one."  
He came closer to take a look at the woman that was already dead in the ground, full of dreams and hopes that were destroyed in seconds.  
By the face covered with fresh blood, it gave him the impression that she was really young.  
"You imbecile." He remained his composture for not punching Farlan, that was looking at him with worry.  
"Let's get the fuck out of here."  
However, he felt his stomach twist while remembering that young woman, whose name never knew.

**9.**  
His mouth was travelling across every inch of her skin, marvelling at the lovely shape of his wife's body. She was so beautiful and so _her_, that he couldn't stand any longer, so he kissed her with such a passion and force, that left them both breathless.  
Much later, when they were enjoying the quietness of the night, Petra whispered.  
"Levi, we forgot to take dinner."  
"Tch, forget dinner. " said the man, his face hidden in the crock of her neck.  
"I love you so much Levi. " her delicate hands wandered on his fave, memorizing everything that was him, the man she choosed.  
"I love you even more Petra. Merry Christmas."

**10.**  
When he gave the package wrapped with metallic paper, the woman payed him. She was really short -probably of the same height as him- and she had fine features and a small nose. Even though the scarf she was wearing was too childish for her.  
"Is there a problem?" He asked with a bored expression, crossing his arms.  
"No, eh…" She looked at his name "it's nothing Levi, but I have this strange feeling that I know you from somewhere."  
Her eyes were suprisingly big and expressive.  
And familiar.  
_"I think I've seen you before too."_

**11.**  
He can still remember clearly the Christmas Eve from last year.  
The squad were playing cards -Oluo was the one losing- a small fruit cake was on the table and a bottle of wine given by Hange, which had one of the sweetest tastes he ever drank.  
"Captain?" Petra was looking at him curious. "Aren't you going to open your gift?"  
Levi drank from his cup of wine, gazing at the package wrapped in cheap paper.  
"I suppose so." And Levi felt that he had a real family that night.  
This year was different. There was a lot of noise coming from the brats, the cake didn't have a good taste and the wine was horrid.  
In the end, mostly of them fell asleep on the floor, except of Jean and Armin, who were playing cards in the table.  
He excused himself as soon as possible, and when he was closing his eyes in the darkness of his room, he remembered his lost squad and the nostalgia hit him.  
That night, he dreamt of all of them, especially of _her_.  
With Isabel and Farlan _too_.

**12.**  
His small daughter, Lily, woke him up early in the morning, and some minutes later, he carried her and took her to the living room.  
"What's all this noise?" Asked Petra with a hint of curiosity some time later, while her husband gazed with abnegation at the small girl who was opening the presents and making joyful noises at discovering more wrapped gifts in the pine tree.  
He made a gesture to her, so the copper haired woman put her arms around his neck, whispering _"Merry Christmas dear one"_ and he realized that this was all he wanted in his life.  
Levi Ackerman was a really lucky man.


	4. Reminder

He sometimes wonder what could've happened if they kept the bodies on the cart that fateful day of the failure of the 57th expedition.

What would their families do? Kneel down and cry over their broken bodies, the ones whom gave up everything for saving humanity and Eren's life until the very end, or laugh at the irony of it. One of the best elite squads of the Survey Corps, all of them gone in fleeting seconds.

Life is so strange and full of mysteries, but every time Levi thinks of them before sleeping, he can't help but feel _regret_.

He shouldn't have left her lifeless body outside the walls; he should've kept her patch on his pocket. Hell, he can still _feel it_ on his hands, taking a last look of what were his reminders of sunshine and hope before giving it to that soldier. He would've kept her body and gave her a proper burial with the most beautiful flowers of the season, but everything was so fast and twisted and _heartbreaking_, that decisions were obligated to make.

He can still see the clear image of Mr. Ral approaching him, all smiles and awkward words, slipping _things_ about her daughter that he wishes to never remember.

But Levi sees her, before closing his eyes, and Petra looks sad and he wants so much to reach her, to comfort her and to tell her the things he _never dared_ to say...but he can't touch a ghost.


	5. The ideal one

_A/N: I had a strange day yesterday so; I wrote this for keeping myself busy. This one has Isabel &amp; Farlan on it because they're important too. (At least for me)_

* * *

.

Some days before being captured by Erwin Smith and the other members from the Survey Corps, Isabel came up with a thought after dinner.

"But what about if we get outside from here one day? What should we do after?"

"You should be sleeping Isabel." said Farlan unamused by the disturbance of the quietness in the room. "And what made you think those kinds of things?"

The red haired young woman sighed, relaxing against the clean but red faded sofa.

"I was just bored so I searched for something to think about? What do you think big brother?"

"Hm?" Levi glanced at her with a questioning look -he wasn't paying attention to the conversation between his two comrades -as he took a few sips of his tea.

"About leaving the Underground someday."

"I haven't given much thought. What about you?"

Isabel stood up; taking a longing look at the cheap painting Farlan stole months ago. Somehow, looking at it gave her a hopeful feeling.

"Anything can happen, but we could die at trying it. But I'm sure there's something more worthy than this horrid place. Besides..." The young girl hit Farlan on his head with a pillow.

"Hey, calm down!" Exclaimed the blue eyed man in annoyance.

"You guys could get married someday!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Have you got nuts?!"

"Don't tell me you've never thought about it?" She sat next to the dark haired man. "Look at _nii-chan_, he's even considering it."

"As a matter of fact Isabel, we're thugs. Do you think a woman from the outside will take a glance at us?" Farlan always had a realistic point of view, but that didn't make her change her idea.

"They don't need to know about your past lives!" The girl with messy pigtails said delighted, then gave a funny laugh. "All you got to do is trying to get a new job, change these rags for new clothes and then you get a girl."

"Levi, tell her something."

"Let her be." said Levi with his usual quiet voice.

"So tell me Farlan, do you have an ideal woman?" Isabel put her hands on her cheeks, trying to imitate a feminine face. "And not the ones you _see_ sometimes."

"Alright, I'll tell you so you can shut up." Farlan waved disinterested. "She must have really long hair and has to be really good at cooking."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"What about you, _nii-chan_?"

Levi took a long sip from his teacup, and stated:

"I don't plan on getting married." After all, who would like to spend a life with someone foul-mouthed, rude and with a _disappointing _past life?

"And she must be shorter than him." Recalled Farlan with slight amusement.

Isabel told him to shut up, then, one of her tiny hands placed softly on Levi's shoulder.

"Big brother, I really hope you can find yours someday. I'd love to have a sister!"

"Go to sleep Isabel." Levi finally said, trying not to dwell into her strange ramblings, but somehow, when he took his next sip of tea, its taste was different.

.

It was until many years later, when he briefly remembered Isabel's words.

She was smaller than him, with short copper hair and handling him a cup of tea.

Petra Ral, one of the subordinates of his squad.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

He tried not to think about it, but there were times in which was highly impossible, since she was so loyal to him and wanted to live to his expectations. Levi swore it was nothing, but Hanji mocked him constantly, and this girl...was so unique and had this strange aura that soothed his soul every time she was near.

And her eyes, so bright and amber-ish, reminded him that she was alive and was looking at him at _this_ precise moment.

He swept away all those illogical thoughts. It was a waste of time after all.

"Yes, it is. Thank you Petra." He handled the warm cup of tea and took a sip.

_That strange taste again._

_Damn you Isabel._


	6. Storyteller

_A/N: This one is from Armin´s point of view, slight Rivetra._

* * *

He feels the days passing by, barely remembering his grandfather's features, tired eyes and a reflection of the things he's lived through, childish memories that had already faded like broken butterflies during winter.

But there's something the blonde young boy never dares to forget.

Armin Arlert picks up fragments of others people lives from his point of view, fragile yet meaningful moments, adjusting them as a complex puzzle he's still learning to understand. He's a storyteller, just like his gone but never forgotten grandfather.

Armin wishes to be as good as him one day.

.

When they became part of Captain's Levi new squad, he thought it all went too fast for his own liking.

Things were usually strange at first, feeling exhausted by Eren's reprimands about how the captain orders to keep everything as clean as possible, or how they have to maintain a close track of the food provisions so Sasha can't eat them; or how much of a snoring boy Connie actually is during night and some other things.

It is until one day at breakfast, in which there's a heated argument between Jean and Eren, and it is in the moment the green-eyed exclaims, anger through his boyish features "You're a replacement, you'll never be like _them_!" so he tries to follow him, but Mikasa stops him.

"Let him leave. Changes have been hard for him."

He believes her, marveling slightly of how much her longtime friend has changed, and lets himself finish the rest of his breakfast, but he realizes someone _else_ has left too.

.

There's also something melancholic and disturbing the way Captain Levi stares at his cup of tea every day, how his brows knit together in a line, and the way his eyes darken -even more as usual- before taking long sips.

It seems like no one has noticed, but he _does_, so he catches the memory; like a little kid catching dandelion petals.

.

He asks Eren about the original Special Operations Squad, one sunny morning in the field, and his best friend's face brightens with joy,_ like sunlight_, talking how different they were but their loyalty to humanity kept them together and how in the end, they decided to trust in him.

When the blue-eyed boy asks of which one he was the closest during that time, Eren replies a single name before leaving.

_Petra._

Armin wonders for the rest of the day, what would've been living with Captain's Levi first team, at least for a day.

.

"So Petra was the one who made the tea?" He only saw her once, calling out to Eren during that time in which he was being held by the Survey Corps. She was short and he couldn't define the color of her hair but when their gazes locked briefly and saw her smile, Armin concluded she was one of the loveliest people he's _ever seen_.

"Oh, dear Petra! Hers were certainly perfect!" Hanji smiles softly, somehow talking to the scientist became a routine, and at least she was always eager to listen. "Must´ve been hard for her being with a bunch of men all day along."

"From what Eren told me, she seemed like a nice young woman."

Hanji relaxs against the wooden wall, arms hanging on the back of her nape.

"Eren appreciated her, and she did the same for him."

"Did Captain Levi find her tea good?" He asks some time later, a thought coming to his mind.

This time Hanji laughs, but it's a different sound, it sounds broken, a remnant of all those lost soldiers who payed the price with their lives, those who will never come back.

"Petra was Levi's _sunshine_."

"Were they together?" the young boy asks with curiosity, suddenly understanding the hidden meaning of _sunshine_.

"There are some things that are better to not being talked about. Anyways, you should go to sleep right now, it's really late."

Armin barely sleeps, the night is strangely cold but when he feels wide awake, a few hours later, he waits to see the early sunrise in the sky, and he wonders again.

.

When Eren and Historia get kidnapped a few days later, and everything feels like a failure, they all look worried. Even Mikasa, but she never shows it. But he knows her _oh so well_.

They're travelling through the woods with the help of the horses, and somehow, he finds himself next to the captain, and asks:

"Sir, do you think we'll find them?"

"Do _you_?"

"I think we'll bring them back."

The raven haired man takes a quick glance, focusing again on his front; and Armin notices a slight quiver on his features, as if wanting to say something.

"I know we'll never be like _them_ Sir."

And they'll never reach their level, they're just a replacement, as Eren said once, after all, things change and nothing stays the same way.

"I'll make sure their lives weren't in vain." Levi replies, but he isn't looking at him, his eyes are closed, and Armin will never forget the moment in which a ray of sunshine showed across the captain's face and everything went _bright_ for a second.

"And don't you dare to talk about it _again_ Arlert. Also, keep your pace strong."

.

That night, he overhears a conversation between the captain and Hanji, but he's too tired to think, so he falls asleep in the floor.

Armin really wishes to be a storyteller -like his grandfather- , but sometimes he simply fails.


	7. Laughter lines

They say people change from time to time, and the things they leave behind are only fragments of circumstances that defined them, all fading away through the seasons.

He has changed somehow -his past life is only a remembrance of what kind of awful man he was before he met her- but there are some glimpses of his unique nature that have remained, unchanged.

And then, there's their love.

He told her the first time she decided to make a move on him, they weren't meant to be together, that he was not an ideal man for her and horrible things he'd done on his past followed him like creeping shadows. Also, she was _so young_.

But oh, how much she _loved_ him.

And he learned to love her _too_.

They loved each other with an intangible devotion, in different ways but their trust and loyalty to each other was the key to battle their inner demons together.

It's been decades since they decided to take the same path, he's drinking slowly a cup of black tea one morning and she seems to be lost in thought.

"Something wrong, Petra?" He notices his voice is now raspy, his low tone echoing in the dining room. He barely forgets if it's a sunny morning, or a foggy one.

"Everything is fine dear." His wife answers, laughter lines drawing across her old but still bright face.

The old man stands up, coming closer to the woman he's ever loved, his steps are slower but still has a touch of the strength he's ever been characterized.

"Hell no, I know you so well." He holds her hands in a old fashioned way, staring right into her eyes, looking for traces of secrets she may be hiding.

Her hair still has some strands of copper, and he thinks she looks lovely.

_She does_.

"I'm afraid of leaving you." In another life, things ended in a twisted manner. They barely remember what exactly happened, a haunting reminder of what could've been. But he knows now is different.

"Listen Petra. If one of us leaves first, you must promise me you'll make it alive. No matter what may happen, we'll find each other again. I don't bloody know how or when, but I'm sure we will."

His words always have been brutally honest, but she loves him anyways, has loved him for _so long_ and a little tear falls from one of her eyes.

"Levi..."

They kiss instead. It's a sloppy one, their rusty lips matching each other like a puzzle, they've kissed uncountable times but this one is special. It's an affirmation of the unbreakable bond they've shared through the years, for her, Levi is the same awkward but lovable man, and for him, Petra is sunshine and all the things he never thought he could have.

This kiss is not even like the first one they shared, that rainy morning at his office when they both were trying to save humanity.

It's different.

_It tastes like forever._


	8. Vows

_A/N: Yes, I'm still here. First prompt for Rivetra week._

* * *

Burials are always full of unspoken words and too many _"I'm sorry"_, with all kinds of flowers that give a distressing contrast to the lifeless body that leave the human world without a trace.

He is not someone who over thinks about dying, he's seen plenty of _this_, with his comrades through years of battle and defeats, hell; he even knows what blood tastes _like_.

He can see the clear images of uncountable dying children's faces, pale lips and broken bones, some dying of cold, others of hunger, during his living at the Underground.

There's was an event, in which Isabel arrived at home with a little bird on her hand, she; so willing yet so cheerful to take care of it, held the tiny animal being on her room, not thinking by the unfortunate ending of the next day. She ended up crying, in the moment in which Farlan brought an old box of shoes, covering the bird with a rag, and placing it on a place he never remembered.

However, this time is different, when he enters the room and finds _her_ looking at the window.

Do people who grieve, supposedly have to cry? He thinks as he takes a glance at her lovely features, yes, she looks pale and probably much older, but by no means she´s crying.

The raven haired man sits on a chair, as she walks across the room and sits in front of him, at the bedside.

"I'm fine, really." Petra says after a long time of silence.

"I could say it's unfortunate to say that _it was_ unexpected."

"Indeed." Her voice sounds much quieter as usual, and he can't help but feel unusual pity at her.

"Black doesn't suit you." He gives a disapproving look at her state of dress; she's too much light, _too_ much sunshine and bright colors for being matched with a tasteless, empty color like black.

"It's the second time in my life I'm wearing black."

"And your first time was...?"

"My _mother's_." The young woman replies bluntly, her gaze suddenly becoming blurry.

"Petra," He gives her a handkerchief, placing it between her delicate hands. "It's okay to cry."

She lets herself fall a few tears on her face, drying them as quick as possible. As natural and human death might be, there's something she's always been bothered by.

"I'm afraid to lose you _too_, and then I won't have anyone by my side."

The man takes her arms, putting her on his lap. He caresses her short hair in his usual awkward manner, giving her a few tugs on her asymmetrical bangs.

"We can cancel the _ceremony _of tomorrow, you know..."

"We won't Levi." Her fierceness is no surprise for him, and he chuckles at the thought of it. Petra, as always, the stubborn woman she is.

"Your father never approved on me." There's a hint of disappointment and possibly regret, at not having enough time for making amends with _the man_. Her daughter was the only thing left for him, of course she deserved better. But he left her, without a proper goodbye or at least a letter.

"He was simply afraid." She hides her face on his neck, and he kisses her fingers slowly, tenderly.

"I can't promise you happiness as I've told you countless times," Levi says as he holds her face, "but I won't leave you until my last breath."

The smile she gives him is so sweet, so endearing and pure, that everything feels okay, and she never cries again before sleeping, as long as Levi remains on her side.

Papa would be so proud.

_He would._


	9. Crossover

_A/N: Written for rivetra week_

The garden was filled with colorful balloons of green, blue and red, the joyous sound of children playing around the playground, and the _same annoying_ song repeating nonstop.

"Honestly Petra, why did I have to wear this?" The dark haired man protested on his costume, which consisted on an overall, a red long sleeved shirt and a cap.

"Because," A pretty young woman held on his arm, replying in a high pitched voice. "It's your son's birthday."

"It would've been better if you didn't buy him that video game."

"He's young, besides it´s good to know he's having a proper childhood."

"Hm."

"Don't you like how do I look?" He took a glance at her and her pompous white and pink dress. Her straight hair was done in pretty curls, and a paper gold crown adorned her head.

"You're always beautiful." Levi whispered, grabbing her by the waist. "Even with ugly dresses."

The smile she gave him was enough for making him smirk in triumph.

A little child with pale skin and bright eyes came towards them, holding an ice cream cone on his hands.

"What is it Aiden?" Petra sat on her knees, caressing the soft raven hair of the boy.

"You're even prettier than _Princess Peach_ mommy."

"Why thank you sweet one!"

"And why is this stranger talking with you?" The child asked, pointing at Levi with his ice cream.

"I'm no stranger brat, I'm your father." Levi recalled, frowning in confusion at his son´s misconception.

Aiden came closer to him, looking at his eyes directly for some moments. An unpleasant child smirk appeared on his boyish features, saying with innocent honesty:

"You should've dressed as _Luigi_ dad."

After he went to the playground zone, Petra couldn't hold back her laughter.

"See? I _told you_."

"Shut up Petra."

Ah, the perks of being a father.


	10. Ruined

_A/N: Rivetra week day 4_

Even though she slept the required hours —because resting is necesary for a Scouting Legion member, at least around four hours per day— she could feel the weight of exhaustion and burdens from the last weeks; in the moment she tried to close her eyes. It wasn't an easy life, _it never has been_, being a soldier is tough, and she was simply human, but there were moments in which the only thing she wanted to do was to stay in the little bed of her dorm for the rest of the day. Titans could wait.

The low sound of the teapot soothed her, the familiar sensation of tiredness coming all over her again and; in the moment she was holding the tray with cups of coffee on it, her vision went blurry, and in matter of seconds, she exclaimed in horror at the mess on the floor.

It angered even more the fact her comrades were waiting for her at the dining room, and she cursed in silence at her clumsiness, while cleaning the sticky liquid with a towel.

"Ral." A masculine voice came from the kitchen's door. With a steady way of walking, the firm sound of his boots clicking against the ground, the man came over her, looking in silence.

"I'm really sorry for my lack of attention, and all the chaos I've let. It won't happen again Captain." She didn't score as the best during her trainee years, but there was no deny that being handpicked by the well recognized Captain Levi wasn't something to take easily granted. To the contrary, it was such an _honor_, and even though she was the only female on the squad, she wanted to live on his expectations and to never fail him in any possible way.

_But not like this._

Those were fleeting moments for being analyzed, but she could never forget the instance in which the captain focused in putting back on the tray the broken, no—_ruined_ pieces of the cups with strange grace. Then, he came to his usual posture, not looking at her.

"Use the cups from the other stand. Take a look if they're clean and try to not get late."

He was a peculiar man, of short height —she was an inch smaller — with dark hair and bags under his eyes that reminded her of the lost lives of humanity and the human strength at the same time.

The blonde haired young woman tried not to look way _too_ much, it was an impolite gesture and Captain Levi was her superior.

"Yes sir."

He took a glance at her with no special expression, and left the room.

That night, while wandering about the success, Petra understood the need to replace those cups, so she wrote to her father, asking him to send her the tea porcelain set that were given to her during a birthday years ago, still untouched. She also recalled the curious event and the particular kindness of Captain Levi, that even though his cleaning quirkiness and foul language, he had courtesy patterns as any other human.

Sometime later, she learned that black tea was his favorite drink, that he had a funny way of holding his cup and that he never came drunk after going out with Commander Erwin Smith and Hange Zoe during Saturdays. She also asked herself why she thought often of the deep blue orbs of his eyes before sleeping, or the reason of why she felt her cheeks redden with the simple fact of meeting him after each battle.

When Petra discovered the _true reason_, she covered her face on her hands, deeply embarrassed.

.

.

"Hey Connie! Look what I've found!" Sasha exclaimed brightly, holding a white box from the old wooden cupboard.

"What is it? Hey let me take a look!" The young man grabbed the box from her hands, sitting on a chair.

Both pair of eyes widened at the sight of the tea set, so delicate yet so fragile.

"How odd, I´ve never seen this type of teacups before."

"That's because it looks like high priced porcelain." Remarked Connie, his gaze remained at the details of the set_._ "I wonder..."

"Hey." Captain Levi appeared at the door, arms crossed with an inquired look. "Are your duties finished yet?"

The man's eyes suddenly fixed on the box, his eyebrows in deep confusion.

"Where did you get that _from_?"

"Eh, from the cupboard Sir." Replied Sasha in slight worry, as the raven haired man looked at the opened box.

And he remembered, way back when the tea set came from the delivery mail, the joyful look on her eyes —so dazzling and hopeful—and how she _promised_ him to prepare some tea after the expedition. It wasn't much, and there was a fine line between comrades and romance, but he simply _grew_ used to her, even if he didn't want it in the first place.

He even remembered her tiny frame, in her soldier uniform, as she put the box in a hidden corner of the kitchen, telling him in whispers, that he was the only one who only knew where the tea set was going to be kept.

_Her, whom the candor of her blue eyes never dared to forget, even if seasons and weather changed._

"Go back to your chores and make sure to _never_ touch this box again." His voice was grave, somehow calmer than usual, and after Connie and Sasha left seconds later, he took one last look before placing back the box to its original place.

It's the only thing that hasn't been_ broken_, the only reminder left of _her_ and what _could've been_, and the never tasted tea of a _ruined_ promise.


	11. Modern

**A/N: **Rivetra week day six

* * *

_Timing is a really funny thing_ —a young woman of short height enters the kitchen, a gentle smile plastered across her features, glancing longingly at the letter on her hands.

"Oi Petra, what is it again?" Asks Eld, whom is focused in decorating the rectangular plate of fresh baked donuts.

"That time of the week." Petra waves the sealed piece of paper for fleeting seconds, carefully placing back on her pocket from her work's uniform.

"That man is _really_ into you. Has he sent you a picture of him yet?"

"Oh, shut it Eld!" She tries to keep her short copper hair in order, her cheeks tinged in a sweet shade of pink, suddenly the atmosphere feeling warm.

"Technology is at its highest point and you keep writing on letters. That's so old fashioned."

"But it's interesting." Petra remarks quickly. Her glance wanders around the donuts, pleased at the look of them. "Add more sugar on the last ones from the right side."

"You should meet in real one day." The tall man says some time later, after changing the closed sign to the opposite side.

"He has never said anything about that. Maybe he doesn't have an interest in doing it." Petra gives a long sigh, her fingers playing absently with the keyboard of the cashier.

"How old is he?"

"His name is _Levi Ackerman_."

"Alright, alright. How old Mr. Levi Ackerman _is_?" Eld sits in a chair, arms crossed in a relaxed position.

"Thirty _something_." The petite young woman answers in a barely audible voice, embarrassment evident on her face.

"Thirty what?"

"Thirty four." She hides herself on the counter table, frustration rising at her friend´s laugh. "Ugh, don't look at me like that!"

"So, you're fond of experienced ones, eh? Poor Oluo when he finds out about this."

"Fuck you Eld!"

.

.

It started because of a misconception. One rainy morning, a single letter showed on the mail box. Distracted by one of her co-workers antics and the strange smell coming from the kitchen, Petra opened the letter, discovering that the one who sent it got the address wrong.

She would´ve left it on the trash and forget the issue as usual people do, but something inside her told her to do something about it. So, she wrote back; clarifying that the address was actually from a bakery store but before of that, it was an office from the man the sender was looking for. She also apologized for her lack of attention and the guiltiness after reading something she shouldn´t have, and asked for a reply, at least for knowing she wrote the address right.

So Petra waited.

Surprisingly though, she got a reply back, two weeks after.

It wasn´t that much, but the man had messy handwriting and some grammar mistakes; it seemed he wasn´t someone of many words. He remarked that she should be careful at reading things that weren´t for her and that he was glad about her honesty. However, in the last lines of his letter, the man asked about the bakery store and Petra found herself writing back, —again— long splashes of words and details of the place she loved to work.

Levi Ackerman lived from the other side of the country, in the north. He described her that he was a workaholic and that he had a lacking sleeping routine. He liked coffee a lot and wasn´t very fond of sweets, but his favorite drink was black tea. The young woman laughed when she discovered he was obsessed with cleanliness, thinking briefly about what kind of awkward man he was.

It was a matter of time until Petra found herself smiling often at random times, her fingers curling in delight each Tuesday of the week when the mail arrived.

"What did your mysterious pen pal give you know?" Asks Gunther after an exhaustive day of work, sitting next to her in a table.

The short woman glances around, finding Eld and Oluo playing cards in one of the tables. She gives a little smile to his friend, while showing the inside of the small gray package that arrived in the morning.

"Just some bookmarks and a little notebook for writing."

"You do _like him_, do you?"

"Well, I…uh…."

But Gunther has a pleased expression on his face that makes her sigh in abnegation. She's never been good at hiding her feelings.

"Then tell him you want to meet him."

.

.

It was a strange letter; the one Petra sent him that day. If consisted mostly of ramblings about her work, and the usual weather issues of living in a place when mostly of the days were rainy. She even wrote about her father's health, since he usually wondered about him on his letters. In the end, in pretty handwriting, she thanked him for his appreciation in writing to someone he's never seen, and confessed her desire to see him in real life one day.

There was nothing she had to lose after all.

.

.

His writings simply vanished.

She tried not to dwell too much about it, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment at not finding a familiar type of paper when she checked on the mailbox.

Sometimes before going to sleep, Petra wondered about him, and how stupid she was for not asking his phone number.

"Are you still waiting for that _old man_ babe?" Oluo is in his usual self, attempting to have a conversation with her.

"Shut up Oluo." Answers Petra, picking a bowl of flour from the large table.

"Huh? What's gotten into you? Maybe he's gotten a new pen pal. "

"If you keep on—"

"Or maybe he is just dead."

In seconds, the tall man feels something soft against his face, clearly hearing the empty sound of a recipient falling to the floor.

Oluo cleans his face as quickly as he cans, an annoyed look evident on his features.

"What?"

"You clearly have a problem man." Says Eld in deep thought "You're just too aggressive on her."

.

.

The day was packed with customers to attend, and with preparing a banquet of pastries for a wedding.

Days like those made her have a tensed mood, surely, she could be all smiles and act as a very attentive lady, but she was simply an imperfect human being and had _quite_ a temper.

"Oluo, go and help Gunter with the cake." The short haired young woman dries her hands with a little towel, adjusting silently on the cashier. She makes a vague count of the money obtained from the day, thinking briefly that even though days can never be absolutely perfect, some bring its own rewards in different ways.

"Petra."

"Yes, Eld?" She asks uninterested, focusing in writing on a yellow post-it note.

"Someone's been looking at you; literally he hasn't stopped looking away." Answers the young man in a quiet voice.

"Ah, it must be…"

"No, not that _one_ from the arcade." Eld comes closer, modestly telling her where to look at. Her gaze registers not so far from where she is, a pair of men sitting on a table. The taller one seems to be conversing with animosity, but it's the shorter one —he looks really short, and he's wearing a black coat— that catches her attention. She looks away for brief seconds, then looks again, and finds him looking at her. His expression shows impassiveness, no hint of curiosity or hatred, he is just simply staring. Petra unconsciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and it takes some fleeting glances until the man breaks the eye contact.

"Are you okay Petra?"

"He seems foreign; I've never seen him before."

Eld agrees with a hint of amusement, and pats her on her shoulder.

"Well, I gotta ask them if they have already chosen their order."

She sees his friend's long, broad shoulders moving through the customer's area, and before she looks at the stranger man from the table one more time, she hears a loud crash coming from the kitchen.

Damn idiot Oluo and his clumsiness.

.

.

Petra suddenly finds herself in front of the men she saw minutes ago, not focusing on their eyes. She briefly registers the blonde man clothing, in rich tones of blue, and from the look of it, he seems to be someone of importance. _Maybe he´s from the law._

"I apologize for the wait, it's been a hectic day" She gives the long _well known_ smile she usually uses for politeness. "Here's the espresso you ordered mister." Petra says, putting the cup in the middle of the table. The tall man catches the cup, moving it slowly on his side.

"Thank you miss." He has a gentle smile, she recognizes, the light hue of his blue eyes reminds her of the sky after a long day of rain.

"And here's black tea for you, mister" The young woman blinks in slight confusion, giving a tiny laugh "How strange, it's the first time someone orders this kind of tea on here."

"He is a man of eccentricities. Aren't you Levi?"

But before she could say anything, Petra is already _looking at him_, the man with the dark coat and she knows her mouth is gaped with surprise, but it doesn't matter, because it's him. _Him_. Her long lost pen pal, Mr. Acker—_Levi_.

She grabs the cup, but her fingers are trembling and in matter of seconds, it ends broken, the dark liquid running wildly around the floor.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Petra exclaims, feeling aware of the looks the people are giving at the scene, and she sighs in frustration, cleaning the mess with her smock.

She picks up quietly the broken pieces, trying to disappear as quickly as possible but suddenly, someone kneels next to her, putting the rest on the tray she was carrying.

Petra looks at him, noticing the laughter lines from the corner of his eyes; his well cut hair and the well defined shape of his nose. He has a calm expression, even though she can perceive his struggling at not looking at her.

"Done." The man says simply after finishing, not smiling. His coat is gone, leaving him in a white long sleeved shirt and why one his arms looks strange? Is he thinking she's a stupid plain girl? Maybe he didn't find her impressive and she doesn't know _why_ this thought is bugging her a lot, but she feels her eyes watering quickly, so she stands up and leaves as fast as she can.

She avoids her friend's strange looks in the kitchen, but she mutters quietly she already discovered who her pen pal is, leaving the room for taking a walk outside.

Petra doesn't go far from the store, sitting quietly on a bench, and she thinks.

Someone sits next to her sometime later, the quietness it's too beautiful for being broken, she knows it's him.

"It's you." she whispers softly, not looking at him, focusing on a pair of kids passing by.

"Yes." He has a deep voice, his wording very little, just as she imagined. But she wants answers.

"How did you find the store?"

"I asked Erwin," Levi answers, using that pattern some people have with mentioning unknown names "the man I came up with."

"Oh."

Silence fills the conversation again, and they share some glances, as if waiting something.

"Why did you stop writing to me, Levi?" It sounds like an accusation, but she simply wants to know. Months of waiting shouldn't be taking for granted.

The dark haired man gives a long sigh, and looks directly at her. His stare is quite intimidating, and she realizes she doesn't cares.

"Isn't it _obvious_?"

Her gaze flickers directly to his right arm, and understands why_. It´s incomplete._

"Are you learning to write with your other hand?"

"Yes, and it's shitty hard."

Petra tries not to laugh at his vocabulary, but she understands, it's not easy for him and she doesn't know _what happened exactly_ but she wants to help him.

"That's not an excuse of why you stopped writing."

Now he looks irritated, and she thinks he's already done with her but the man simply sighs.

"I wanted to see you too. But damn woman, you're just _too much_."

She excuses herself the weather is too warm but it isn't, she's blushing so much, her smile growing wide.

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. And you deserve…"

"But I want to know you. You. For real, I don't care _about it_ Levi." She looks for his remaining hand, grazing hers into his very lightly. He gives a gentle squeeze.

"Are you sure Petra? Because I'm not someone who enjoys nonsense promises."

"I'm really sure."

"Then, I'll move to this strange city and look for you _every day_."

Petra laughs in joy, her hand still clasped on his as they share a new type of closeness, and she can't help but accepts it's much, much better than just writing letters.


	12. Wish

**A/N:** For day seven, rivetra week.

* * *

He feels disappointment every morning, when he finds a body next to him in the moment he opens his eyes.

He caresses her short hair, while the young woman hides her face on the crook of his neck, thick strands of shiny locks that flow so easily through his hands.

Finding somehow repulsive the idea of kissing with morning breath, the man gives in, as she grazes her full lips into his, and it's a clash of tongues and skin for a long while, but he doesn't find release in her as the way he used to.

"Levi, are you okay?" She asks with curiosity and perhaps with pity, curling against his body.

She, with bright eyes and a tiny frame, it would be so easy to pretend she's _her_. But she's not. Her eyes are not the glittery amber he's _always adored_, but plain brown, and her teeth are a little yellow for the amount of coffee she drinks, her lips so small and yet so demanding and harsh… they´re not soft, willing, and oh so inviting like _hers_.

_Is he okay?_ He's never been, and his seek for solace is a reminder of how much he's lost.

"I am."

.

.

The raven haired man looks for _her_ in the packed crowds of the city, longing to see at least a dot of copper hair, he knows where she's currently working —a local mail delivery store— and when he has free time after work, he waits for her outside.

She never appears though.

At home, —_or should he call it home_? — during dinner, he would appreciate the amount of food the young woman cooks, but as he takes the first bite, he grimaces, the food's never been so bland, so tasteless.

He drinks his tea instead, the only thing good left, replying a polite _thank you_ and, when the woman gives him a smile, he can't help but wonder why it feels like he's drinking simply water with colorant.

It will never be as perfect as _hers._

_._

_._

They meet each other again at a restaurant.

She's as beautiful as she's _always_ ever been_,_ lovely, radiant, a mixture of delicateness and elegance all around her.

Their gazes meet unexpectedly as she takes her first bite of her dessert, everything suddenly is way too fast but, he's at her table, and when she sees the woman he's been with, her face grows pale, cold, haunted and she leaves without a reply.

He doesn't follow her, but later, as he pays the check, he hears someone chatting about a pretty woman crying at the outside of the restaurant, and that she was inconsolable for a long time.

.

.

He's tired of waiting, wishing. He looks for her at her work, and as she appears wearing her simple uniform, he still thinks she looks lovely.

She doesn't accept the flowers he greets her in, but he notices the confused look on her features.

"Petra, I…"

"There's nothing to talk about." Her hair looks a little longer than usual, but it looks darker and he doesn't know why.

"You need a haircut."

"I know, I just don't feel like doing it." She touches her hair unconsciously, feeling aware that he hasn't stopped looking at her.

"Are you seeing _that_ man?"

"Who?"

"Don't be stupid."

"He's just pursuing me…"

The dark haired man grips on her wrist fiercely, taking a step closer to her.

"Do you like him?" Do you plan to marry him after we get divorced?"

"You're just hurting me!"

"Answer me." He insists.

"You've been with Nifa for a long time." Ah, Petra, always so blunt with her opinions, so stubborn.

"Indeed."

"Then, what do you want from me? Why don't you just leave me alone?" She's crying now, he's always disliked tears, but _hers_ has always been so honest, so pure and he almost feels envious for her sincerity, as he holds her face with his hands.

"I want you to come back to me." He slightly trembles, wiping her salty tears with his calloused fingers.

"No." Petra tries to get away but his grip is stronger. She looks at him defiantly, unwilling to give up. "No after all I've been through."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you."

She laughs, really laughs, and its sound it's _so broken_ that tears re-appear again from the corners of her eyes.

"You tell me."

She is about to leave again, but he embraces her tightly. He whispers on her ear, as he caresses her red hair, it's _exactly_ as he remembers.

"I can't give you what _you want,_ but we could try one more time." It's not their fault; blame the genetics, after _three times_ of failed attempts, the fragility of their marriage simply collapsed.

_**I still love you**_ —he barely hears as she sighs into his touch, her arms gripping on his shoulders for keeping balance. He drowns in her mouth, _tasting her_, assuring that it´s really _her_, not wanting to let go, until she emits a tiny sound that makes him come back to his senses.

Her blush makes him trying to kiss her again, but she quickly stops him.

"I honestly don't know Levi, I need time." Petra says after some time of thought. "And don't wait for me on here; you're starting to creep out my co-workers."

"Petra."

She turns back, lifting one eyebrow.

"I'll wait for your answer."

The young woman nods in agreement, and he waits until she disappears from his view.

As he leaves the flowers on the trash, he looks at the sky, the pale clarity of the evening showing its true colors. He really is alone.

.

.

It takes several weeks, but the next time he sends her flowers, she accepts them with a _well known_ smile.

He wishes for her to come back, but there's not reply yet.


	13. Bubbles

**Bubbles**

_A/N: So I got inspired by a watercolor picture the other day and here´s a writing:_

* * *

They are sitting on the old wood bench at the Ral's backyard, their shoes slightly wet by the humid grass caused of the spring rain from that morning.

He is looking at the sky, unsurprised by the lack of clouds and the dazzling shining of the sun that passes through the long, wavy green leaves of the weeping willow tree.

There's something relieving and welcoming about the Ral's home, even though he isn't sure if Mr. Ral approves him on being his daughter's bright prospect completely. Too many skeptical looks, his thin left eyebrow arching slightly at each word he says, the firm hold on his daughter's shoulders trying to be protective of his _little girl_. But Petra is no little girl anymore, not with her high battle skills and a surprising unbreakable strength coming from someone like her. Being a soldier absolutely suits her, Mr. Ral surely _must_ be proud.

He realizes bubbles are roaming around his hair, and he glances at the young woman sitting beside him. She, with her plain blue dress that it's not to short _nor_ to long and her white headband, is holding a little bottle with pink liquid and a overused pipe cleaner with a circle on the top, he can easily get used to this sight, after all, he usually sees her in her military uniform.

"Where did you get that from?" He asks gravely, sometimes—when it comes to her—it's not his intention to sound rude but there's something about the shiny bubbles that simply bugs him. Suddenly, there are too many of those and it's becoming distracting.

"Hanji gave it to me before coming back home."

The man pinches one with a finger, seeing it exploding in less than a second.

"It's sticky." He grimaces, feeling the odd sensation on his finger.

"Of course it is, it's just soap mixed with water." The young woman answers, blowing softly across the handmade wand, her cheeks tinged of pink by her continuous blows. "Do you want to try?"

"No. It's rubbish."

She gives a long sigh, ignoring his words since she's already used to his cold vocabulary and sometimes unapproachable mood.

"Children adore playing with bubbles you know?"

"You're _not_ a child Petra."

"I know I'm not, but there's something relaxing with doing this." She blows again, this time tiny bubbles run together in the atmosphere like young sisters dancing freely to somewhere, in seek of a perfect place to live by.

"Hm." He crosses his arms in response, and closes his eyes, his neck against the tree.

"Levi, do you know why I brought you here?"

Her question makes him re-open his eyes, and he focuses on her. The light breeze makes her short hair wave in a graceful way, and he wants to put the strands of her hair back in place.

He doesn't answer, but he arches one of his eyebrows questioningly.

"I know you're kind of private with some things, especially about the Survey Corps but I've seen you lately and how little you sleep and— " Petra's eyes widens in something that might be possibly embarrassment, it happens often, she always confronts with her opinions, blurting fast words with honestly. But there's worry and perhaps sadness on her eyes, he clearly sees it.

"You need some distracting Levi."

"And do you think seeing this will help?" He barely thinks about free time, because the burden he has to carry it's not easy— it has never been, and he lives by annihilating those _monsters_, so their lost comrade's lives will not remain in vain. But their broken bones follow him constantly, never letting him go.

"I don't know, but look." She mixes the wand with the soap liquid, smiling at the sight of new spheres flying around them. "Bubbles might be easy to destroy and you may thing they're weak, but look how freely they float without limits, and I've just realized that we can relate so much with them."

Petra continues blowing quietly for some minutes, and says finally after some deep thought:

"It doesn't matter how fragile we are, we can still be free _too_, like them."

The look on her girlish features remained on his mind for a long time, but in that moment, he felt that someone told him the exact words a long time ago. Life might be hard and have its own different circumstances, but certainly he wants to be free. _Like everyone_. But he doesn't know how much it will take Humanity to be completely and, as he looks into her eyes, he realizes her deep care about him and somehow understands. It's in her kind nature to act like that; she's always like this, her way to show affection to her dear ones. And he's _grateful_ for having her by his side, after long years convincing himself that he was better being alone.

"You have a point."

Petra smiles in sweet way, pleased on his answer and it takes him some time to realize he hasn't stopped looking at her.

"Aren't you going to kiss me or what?" There's a special glint on her amber eyes and perhaps some hidden thoughts on her mind, and he does know _how to erase them_.

"Your father might be looking at us right now."

This time she laughs, moving closer to him, and remarks:

"There's not much he can do anyway."

Levi emits a chuckle, and kisses her quietly, letting the sensation linger for a little while. When Petra looks at him again, her deep blush says it more than enough, and as she goes back working on her soap bubbles, he stares at them in silence, admiring their pale form and different sizes.

Will they be free one day? Maybe they _already are_, but he simply doesn't know.


	14. Warmth

_**Prompt day 8/Warmth**_

_**A/N: Considered as an alternate fic of "The Weight Of Us"**_

* * *

Winter nights are usually cold as each year passes, the crude feel of wintery air and fog that is palpable in crystal windows when the sun disappears at night. However, this year was a little different.

Levi woke up at a certain hour after midnight. Aside of being a light sleeper, he was used to get a few hours of rest, but since his nights became accompanied by a pretty woman that smelled of hope and that had dreamy eyes, things _simply_ changed, and he decided to take a healthier sleeping pattern. It wasn't easy, because _the burden_ he had to carry haunted him constantly between silences and whispers, but he kept on trying.

The dark haired man rubbed his arms unconsciously, feeling vaguely aware of the coldness on his skin. He took a sleepy glance at the young woman beside him, her copper hair barely visible, being covered by the light blue blanket they usually shared.

He pulled the blanket on his side, trying not to wake her up, and as he lazily focused on the dark ceiling of the room, he closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, the blanket was gone again.

Levi groaned on his pillow, slightly frustrated at her antics, he knew she hasn't done it on purpose, but damn, it was so cold.

This time he was quick, fingers holding the blanket and wrapping it around him, feeling the warm texture of the fabric wrapped on his body.

And then, gone. Again.

_What the fuck? _

He discovered she was smiling in the pale darkness, her white teeth shining mischievously to him.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was, until I felt you shifting constantly." She answered with a yawn.

"You've been stealing the blanket." Levi stated with a serious tone on his voice.

"Me. _Really_?"

"Don't be stupid." He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed. Now she was doing it on purpose.

"What's the matter?"

"It's too _damn cold_, Petra."

"Well, in that case." She scooted closer to him, wrapping her legs against his. He felt his muscles harden as she rubbed her hands through his shirt. "Are you still feeling cold now?"

"Are you?" He would never accept it. Not when she already _knew_ the answer. He could see a special glint on her amber eyes, darkening at the hint, she, always so willing, so caring. The man put his hands on her neck, his calloused fingers caressing her tenderly, and the sensation was so thrilling for her that she threw her head back in response.

"That feels good...yes." Petra said finally, grinding on him so very lightly, but enough for him to ignite the fire on his veins, and as her kisses became more aggressive and demanding, Levi couldn't help but think at how the cold he was feeling turned into a exhilarating warmth he couldn't comprehend, and he knew he was damn lucky to have someone so beautiful and special as her.

_Even if he didn't deserve her._


	15. Film night

**Film night**

_A/N: The film I choose was directed by Stanley Kubrick and I think there's some discrepancies on my description of the movie; it's been years since I've watched it. Also…it's __slightly(not much okay)__nsfw *smirk*_

* * *

Descending from the slightly old stairs, his mind focused on walking towards his right, the sight of the kitchen appearing on his view.

He grabbed the first glass he found, not caring about turning on the lights. Far away from what he could see outside the window, there was a lamp that illuminated the quiet street of the neighborhood, for some reason it gave him a sense of comfort. He filled the glass with cold water, moving it slowly for seconds and drank it. The sensation of toothpaste and liquid remained on his mouth as he filled his glass a second time. It felt good. He felt clean.

A pale yellow light coming from the living room captured his attention.

"I thought you were sleeping." He said, finding his wife lying down on the couch, looking attentive to the television.

"Oh." She smiled quietly, her big eyes glistening through the dark room. "I wasn't feeling sleepy at all. Is your work done now?"

"Work is never done Petra."

"Well, then come here." The young woman sat, placing one of her hands on the seat.

"What are you watching?" The man asked quietly, arching one of his eyebrows at the strange imagery of the film.

"_The Shining_, it's a movie from the 80s."

He was sure of something; it wasn't a 100 percent horror movie. It was more like suspense, mixed with some supernatural stuff. A little clichéd he thought. If someone tells you to not enter a haunted room in a solitary hotel, then why would you do it?

There was a little boy with a hairstyle that reminded him of Armin— one of Petra's students at the kindergarten; wandering around the hotel on his red tricycle. The child stopped when a pair of twin girls came to scene, with identical blue dresses and polished shoes.

_"Hello, Danny. Come and play with us."_

He heard the soft but haunting music echoing on the background, and felt the weight of Petra shifting on the couch.

The kid— Danny closed his eyes, taking quick glances between his fingers.

"_Come and play with us, Danny."_

The twins were gone. Suddenly, they appeared dead for a second and disappeared one more time. The same sight repeated. That little actor was really good; surely he didn't have idea of what he was filming at during that time.

"_Forever… and ever…and ever."_

An incredible amount of blood flowed through the dark green carpet, giving a _gore-ish_touch, and he could remember the kid talking to himself with one of his fingers at some point.

"That's some really fucked up shit."

"It is, isn't it?" Her wife was quieter as usual, she was the one who never ceased to talk, as he had discovered in their brief time of living together. She gave a tiny, probably nervous smile, her mouth forming an _"o"_ in the moment she looked at the crystal table. "Can I drink of your glass of water Levi?"

"You can, but I won't drink the rest of it."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Petra replied nonchalantly, taking a long sip and placing the glass back on its place. Seriously, he can be so picky sometimes.

The film turned into some twisted supernatural plot, and Levi thought if the director who made the movie was actually sure of what he was doing. He took a glance at the woman sitting beside him. Wearing a gray blouse and flannel pink pajamas, it could be considered as plain clothing. But this was _their_ home, and Petra was one of those people who wear things that make her feel comfortable, and somehow, he liked the way she looked.

He was about to stand up and come back to his office upstairs, when he felt her arm twisting around his, and the soft feel of her hair on his skin. Okay, so maybe she was scared, but why did she decide to watch the film anyways? _Silly woman._

Her tiny fingers caressed his arm lightly, and he tried to not dwell about it, after all, she was always affective towards him with subtle gestures. However, there was a point in which it was _too much_, and unconsciously he got _her hint_, but if she wasn't going to stop doing _that_ soon, then he was going to pull her close and…

Petra kissed his chin awkwardly, letting it linger for fleeting seconds. She tried to move away and focus back on the movie, but somehow his hand found the curve of her neck and pulled her for a proper kiss.

It was a glorious feeling, having her close in _this way_ again after a while—_four days_, and while marriage was a whole new concept for him, she was always there, waiting, learning on his side.

He pulled off one of the straps of her blouse, kissing quietly the pale skin of her neck and shoulder. She pressed herself closer to him, chests touching, her hands slipping through his shirt, looking for skin contact.

_So, I'm going to fuck my wife with a suspense old movie at the distance, how interesting._ He felt uncomfortable at the strange sounds coming from the television, but when Petra placed her legs between his and grinded her hips into him, he was surprised at how alluring the sensation felt.

"Petra, turn the television off."

"_Hn._" She mumbled between long, exploring kisses, sighing loudly when she felt his hand sneaking through her pajamas.

"Where's the fucking remote?" Levi asked roughly, hearing the annoying screams of the woman from the film.

"I don't know." She laughed merrily, hiding her face on his neck, kissing his pulse intentionally.

The man tried to pull away, but she was unwilling to let him go, grasping on his back, touching any bit of skin she could reach, and he wanted to take her _completely_ as soon as possible, but the screaming woman from the screen was getting on _his_ nerves.

"_Here's Johnny!" _

The voice of a man came so unexpectedly, that Petra made a terrifying sound, and she searched desperately for the remote, finding it on the floor moments later.

"It wasn't a good movie after all." She tried to act casual, but Levi was looking at her in a dark and mysterious way, and she couldn't help but blush, because she didn't know if it was of her disheveled state of clothing or the simply reason he was thinking she was really stupid.

"Don't watch shitty films again." Levi held her close, caressing her short hair, placing the strands of hair behind her ears. Finally, he whispered quietly:

"Unless it's with me."


	16. Mermaid

_A/N: Written for soledadestefan´s birthday_

* * *

"Eek!" The red haired young woman threw the sack of potatoes she was carrying, a tiny smirk forming on her lips at the lack of weigh around her arms and shoulders. "And he told us it was going to be an easy task!"

"Don't underestimate the words of Mr. Smith, Isabel." Farlan said, leaving his own sack near his feet. He had an idea of where her words were leading, so he tried to ease her upcoming anger.

"Liars! All are liars!" Exclaimed Isabel defeated. She stared absently towards the view of the sea around her, the lanterns of the ship reflecting through her vivid green eyes. Something about _it_ told her it was going to be a short night.

"At least be thankful for the chance he has given us." He sat on the floor, his back against the wall of their cabin. The furthest part of the boat was given to them for sleeping. "Or do you want to come back to our _old_ lifestyle?"

"You have a point." His comrade replied in slight annoyance some time later. It felt like years since they've started working with carrying the rations of vegetables of the crew, all thanks to Mr. Erwin Smith and his tactics for giving them to decide a life without robbery and fake identities. But it had only been a pair of weeks since the ship started travelling on the vast sea to its principal destination: the city of Shingashina, where valleys are adorned of blue flowers and the quiet nature welcomes in joy its foreign visitors every day.

At least they won't have to pay with blood _anymore._

"So now that our duties are done, I think it's time for a story!" Isabel blurted, excitement showing through her still girlish features, her eyes twinkling brightly while holding a bottle of a drink that resembled of cider.

"Where did you get _that_ from?!"

"It's just a little prize of all our hard work, no one will notice it."

"Old habits die hard." Farlan teased with a disapproving look. _It wasn´t supposed to happen again._

"Now, about the story..." The pigtailed girl sat next to him, opening the bottle with ease, giving a long sip. She sighed loudly, cleaning her mouth with one of the sleeves of her blouse and smiled.

Stories were often told during their nights, when mostly of the crew were already sleeping or having quality time at the bar. The blonde haired man was usually the storyteller —he was some years older than her, and Isabel would sit next to him, listening with attention to his tales about the kinds of mysteries the world has been holding since ancient times.

"Have you ever heard about mermaids?"

"I do! The ones who are in charge of capturing fish _always_ talk about them."

She passed him the bottle of cider, and as he drank of it, he felt the sweet liquid running on his throat, calming his senses.

"Tell me the story!" Isabel slapped him on his arm, stealing the bottle of his view. _This girl, honestly. _

"Alright...I have this tale." He waited until everything felt _almost_ quiet, there's no moon but the cold breeze caressing their heads.

"Since long ages ago, humans have always been oblivious about this kind of issue, or probably we're _all_ doomed, our fate destined to the hands of _them_, our names lost into oblivion through the thick waves of the calming yet frightening sea. The truth is— Farlan stopped, glancing at her swiftly and lowering his voice — they're more real than we've ever imagined. You can feel it on the quietness of the sea...the creeping dark shadows forming on the water...the soft whispers on the air, as if inviting you to discover."

"To discover _what_?" Isabel interrupted, sitting a little closer to his side. She had pretty eyes, too unnatural for a young woman, and he had to maintain himself for not staring in awe.

"Things."

"What kind of _things_?"

The young man put a finger on her lips, as a signal for staying quiet.

"It's in their beautiful faces and long glistening hair that makes you stand captivated, but it's in their _haunting_ melodies...the ones that make you _follow _blindly the path of your own death."

Farlan stood up, taking a few walks towards the balcony, looking at his vague reflection on the water.

"

However...there was once a man, with dark hair and a short height, he was a strange one, worked for the local navy army but used to spend most of his free time in solitary. He always had a frown on his face and his stare was cold, whispers from other people floated around his existence due to he was such an enigma. The only thing by far they knew was that he was a widow, and the knowledge of his surname —Ackerman.

He never believed in superstitions or folk tales, always declaring they were absolute rubbish, and that he was a realist by nature. Little did he know was that, one autumn night, he met a strange creature coming from the sea.

Emerging from the cold waters, something that looked like a woman appeared on his view. She was..._beautiful._

The creature stared at him in silence, staying on its place for a long time.

"Where do _you_ come from?" The man asked cautiously, holding with his hand the knife he usually carried on his pocket.

"From where I am, there are no humans but living souls."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a mermaid."

"A _what_?"

"Half woman, half fish." She said confused.

"You're fucking joking." He snickered, crossing his arms. _Then, he knew_. He saw a fish tail of a dazzling aquamarine, making his eyes hurt. He grabbed the knife and came closer to her, almost jumping to the water. "Get the fuck out of here!"

The mermaid smiled, and he couldn't help but blink. Sweet Merlin, she was...different. If those things were real and looked like they said, then...why did she have short auburn hair and sparkly eyes of amber?

"What do you want?" He finally asked, staring quietly at the young creature floating softly against the water.

"I want to know _you._" She whispered with a grin, and placed a strand of her damp hair behind her ear.

For him, it would've been so easy to hurt the creature and annihilate it. He never knew why he didn't kill her that fateful night. But, when he looked back, the mermaid was already gone, and as he tried to memorize her whole being the next day, he realized something _frightening._

She was the reincarnated version of his deceased wife, but without the blonde hair and blue eyes.

Time passed, and there was no trace of the mystical creature. The man kept it to himself, and came back to his routine, but he could swear he was being observed from afar.

One night, he waited for her.

And she came.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Petra."

"You've been looking for me for a long time." The dark haired man said bluntly, lowering his gaze on her.

"Indeed."

"And the reason is?"

"You always look alone, and I think you need someone by your side." The mermaid —Petra, replied shyly, moving against the water, a little close for his liking. They looked at each other for a long time, and the man admired her delicate features, the round nose and high cheekbones.

"You are not even _real._" He laughed, but its sound was surprisingly broken and melancholic.

"Oh! But _I am_." She held his face with her hands, smiling sweetly, trying to get a little closer. "See?"

He wanted to stay away because he _knew_ he was destined to die in that moment, but aside of the trapped feeling, there was warmth coming from her, and he wanted nothing but to kiss her, as strange as it sounded.

"Then kiss me."

The mermaid stared at him perplexed, her face turning a deep shape of red. Her arms fell on her sides, retreating a little of their lacking distance.

"If I kiss you, then you'll become a meaningless soul. And you're too wonderful for that."She explained with sadness on her eyes, and left.

There was a storm some months later, where mostly of the crew died. The man found himself near a shore, too exhausted to think, but felt someone carrying him. It was the mermaid, he discovered, as the creature left him on a rock.

He wanted to thank her, but he was too injured to act. However, the creature smiled and the sun shone on her hair. He wanted to look away...but simply couldn't. He touched her hand, enjoying the warmth of her skin and when he looked at her eyes, she was crying.

_"I have to go."_

It felt like a farewell, and he blinked in confusion. But before he could answer, he saw her fade on his view, her body turning into blood and falling on the water. _He became insane._

"Is there an epilogue of this story?"Asked Isabel when his friend finished his long rant.

"Some people say the almost lovers still meet each other in dreams." The blonde young man drank a sip of the bottle. "Did you...?"

_"Aniki!" _

"Levi, there you are." Farlan said with a smile. "Where have you been?"

"Sleeping."

"You look very pale big brother."

Levi looked at the night sky longingly, his shadow accompanying the ones coming from his comrades and said:

"I had a shitty strange dream."

"What was it about?" The blonde haired man asked flatly. Isabel was already sleeping on the floor, her red locks remaining on his friend's lap.

"About a _mermaid._"


	17. The mystery behind closed doors

_A/N: A short piece from the Ackerman Family AU Collaboration that I and soledadestefan created._

* * *

Phillip Ackerman is quite a child. The first one to born—six minutes before his sister during a cold morning of February, whose eyes have a resemblance of her mother's, kind and sympathetic. But it's in his hair—dark in its purest form, and the way he holds his fork during dinner, that makes people discover he's the exact portrait of his father.

He dislikes the smell of cold fish and _those _marshmallows his sister requests each time their parents go to the market, enjoys taking naps on Friday evenings and asks for new books to read on Christmas. He's the one who cleans Charlie's mess—for avoid his father's accusing stare, and for obtain the usual kiss on the cheek by his mother instead.

When it comes to his sister—Leona, his caring side takes its highest point. They're twins after all, they created a secret code language for communicating each time after getting reprimanded by his father, spending most of their free time together at the backyard or in the living room, even though Leona is fonder of playing with her dolls, while he—in his quiet nature, prefers reading or resolving his puzzles set.

However, he's skilled on what's around on his surroundings, somewhat aware of _how_ the world works and _why_ some things need to be done in some _way_, due to his young age.

He's a happy child, it could be said.

But there's a _tiny_ question that has been bugging him for the last week.

He knows for sure the feelings their parents hold towards each other, her mother preparing him lunch before work, or simply sharing daily talks during dinner. His father is an odd man—he's pretty sure, but each time he catches him holding his wife's hand in silence, the little boy realizes how unbreakable the magnitude of their bond is.

This time is different, as he takes his breakfast one morning, staring absently at his plate, thinking briefly about those strange sounds he heard a few days before.

"Papa?"

"What is it?" His father holds the newspaper, eyes focused in attention on the page he's reading.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Speak."

"What do you and mom _do_ after we go to sleep?"

Phillip hears the sound of a spoon falling to the ground, his mother exclaiming in a surprised voice. Did he ask something bad? Why is his father looking at him like that?

The dark haired man stares at him questioningly, trying to discover his hidden motive. He knows his son is talking about something _more_ than sleeping. Putting down the newspaper on the table, he replies with another question:

"Do you _really_ want to know?"

"Look Leona, your hair needs to be braided again." Petra interrupts the conversation, taking the girl's hand—and glancing quickly at his husband, for leaving in a haste the dining room.

The child looks at his father, nodding with shyness, curious for the answer.

"What your mother and I do is simple," Levi says, touching his son's hair in an awkward manner. Phillip's eyes blink in attention; he has never felt so anxious in his life until now.

"We play cards."

* * *

_Ps, Charlie is a beagle_


	18. Distance

He opens his eyes, slightly dazed by the sunlight that sneak through the trees of the dark forest, fragile leaves swaying gently to the ground; their green texture losing its color as they fade away into oblivion.

_This battle is fucking lost_—the man thinks in sudden abnegation, his gaze wandering to the lifeless bodies around. Next to him, he recognizes the sight of Oluo's frame split in two—visible regret and disappointment on the surprised frown of his face. He's gone_too_, finding the same path of Gunther and Eld's outcome before they reached the hill, losing sight of them in fleeting seconds, and something on his mind kept repeating him unconsciously that this is _the way_ of how things had to turn in the end.

A soldier's life is ephemeral, strength and courage doesn't lead you to conquer all the battles and victories. There's _failure_, _fear_ and the ultimate _death_, all mixed into one, and it's not the fact that there's so much blood on his jacket, or that his 3DMG has been lost at some point, but the reality of the aftermath. There's no escaping for him, for _them_.

For him, a quick death would've been better, his bones and brain constricting in the moment, his body laying down flat next to the other ones; another life gone, another lost soul.

As he catches a sight of bright orange miles away of him, flying around a giant—maneuvering with the blades in a frenzy haze, he realizes there's _no time_ for thinking, but to act.

He doesn't find enough strength on his legs, collapsing one more time to the ground on his stomach, eyes widening in horror at seeing the titan grabbing her by the boots, swaying her back and forth merciless. She manages to scream, struggling on the monster's grip, and they didn't even know _how_ it happened but their gazes find each other, melting as one, not even being able to wink.

And the world stops for them.

_Captain Levi_—she mumbles across the distance. She's painted in red wine in almost of her face and clothing, looking at him in that strange way of hers—so hopeful yet so daring. He remembers briefly their moments together, when they used to sit quietly on a bench outside headquarters, always finding a theme for conversing about, even if he wasn't fond of long talks and cold tea, and _how_ her glistening eyes twinkled in the night, her lips pale but smiling due to the coldness of the air. And her reflection of those nights is what he sees _this_ time.

He wants to say something, those few words he's _never_ dared to speak, but he discovers his voice is lost from the shock of the events, so he stares in disbelief. What he will never forgive about this world, is how she—_Petra_ smiled in joy, breaking on tears—_understanding_, her fist on her heart—a reminder of what their lives were for, and that it wasn't in vain after all.

But before he whispered her name as his final blow, and his view turned in black, he saw her disappear through the monster's mouth, and nothing remained anymore.


	19. Confessions

**A/N:** _Fall Rivetra Week, day six_

* * *

In a house in which walls are painted of a soothing tone of pale coral, adorned by different kinds of paintings, and a antique wood piano that hold its yellowish keyboard placed on a corner of the living room, a man decided to stay for helping a child on his homework, rather than coming back to an office that crams him with paperwork and signatures to approve every day.

It's a quiet home, in which only few visitors appear during certain times, with a delicate essence of life and freedom that welcomes them each time they arrive.

The sound coming of the razor from the scissors that cut pieces of paper precisely—but careful enough of not cutting a little longer than the dotted line is somewhat unusual for a man like him, but he's got to admit it that it soothes him in a certain way, at least for a few minutes. He takes a glance at the little boy who sits in front of him, focused on his homework as a normal kid around his age does, and he can't help but let his mind wander—in seek for a proper word that describes the young, yet carefree soul.

He's a child of wonders. With the striking resemblance of his father—golden locks trimmed neatly in bangs, blue orbs of an undeniable brightness mixed with innocence and purity, it's easy to conclude he is a version of what his longtime friend Erwin Smith might've been when he was a child of seven years old.

There's a word that he tries to define on his mind, reminders of prizes and medals hanging triumphal around the shelf of the living room, and those fleeting memories of what he's seen, hints him for _that _particular word he wants to find.

_Wunderkind_. He repeats the word on his mind, memorizing it, feeling its weight as he repeats it mentally a few more times. A child of wonders.

Armin is one of them.

Yes. He is. _He is._

"I think these are enough." The man places a hand on three pieces of paper, dragging them across the table so the child could reach them with his fingers.

"Thank you Mr. Ackerman." Replies Armin with a gentle smile, taking two pictures on his hands, a subtle frown forming on his face as he analyzes with curiosity which one he should choose. "This picture doesn't fit, does it?"

"Choose another one, take this."

Armin's tiny hand brushes his gently for a moment, as the piece of paper lies next to his school belongings. He can hear the soft way of breathing of the child, while he smears gingerly the picture with a glue stick, pressing it around the rectangular frame drawn on his notebook.

"Mr. Ackerman, can I ask you a question?" He has a strange pattern of making questions to people—especially those who peak his interest, some say due of his analytical perspective of seeing things, others because he finds amusing the way of tricking minds, but as his grandpa told him twice—of perhaps _thrice_, he's been curious by nature.

"Speak, kid."

"Do you _like_ my mother?"

He feels the remaining from the coffee he's tasted writhing on his stomach, and the awkward silence at the sudden realization of what his few, yet direct words wanted to imply.

"She's _okay_." It's a strange answer—even for him, a dubious tone escaping from his lips, feeling somewhat taken by surprise. His relationship with Petra has been a peculiar one since the beginning, being frequently at odds due of different perspectives and personalities, and the conflicting internal battle of how a woman like her—headstrong by nature, bossy and particularly defensive on her opinions, could turn out into the kindest woman he's ever met. Adored and loved by many, it was simply illogical to him. Until work got way too much into the pressure of looking for answers and conclusions, it was the time in which he discovered her true self.

Petra Ral was one of those women who were born to change lives—not living with the purpose of making friends and acquaintances everywhere, but to simply shine with gentle smiles, and encouraging words towards people who need it. And that's when he realized he wanted to know _more_ about her.

"Mommy is really pretty, isn't she?"

The blonde child must have smiled with amusement at his companion's perplexed expression, because all he could think was what kind of misconception he had for her from the beginning. Perhaps it was the simple idea of _her_, being estranged from someone he used to consider as a close friend, or the fact that her face was too round and rosy for his liking, or _how_ her locks used to glimmer each time the sun reflected its glow around her, unsure if her color had a glint of blonde around that hair of copper he's grown to decipher.

"Yeah, she is."

She was more than a pretty face. Mixed with her loving nature and sympathetic laughter, there was a strong woman that has been trying to build a normal life for her and the little child he's gotten to see during several times—way _too often_ since four months ago. It's even more surprising, how well he and Armin—or _lemonhead_ as he sometimes tries to tease him, even though he's known of carrying abrasive words and cold stares—have learned to develop a friendly relationship between a man like him, and a kid that has been alive for years that can be count with the fingers of its hands. Even if he didn't find interesting the idea of treating kids as individuals at some point of his life, now it's the opposite.

"So, that means you _like_ her."

"Tell me _lemonhead_, since when we've gotten _used_ to personal questions?" He crosses his arms in response, looking skeptically at the young boy he's considering as a peculiar friend.

Armin's answer was one of those replies that he would never forget for a long time, cherishing the memory as how thick is the distance between a child's response than an adult's one.

"Mommy looks happy when you come to visit us, Mr. Ackerman." Blue eyes twinkle hopeful as if a happy thought replays on his infantile mind. "And I think this house needs a _papa_, so we won't feel alone anymore."

Finding loss at his words, Mr. Ackerman—Levi, a way too different man from Petra's first choice of a potential lover, prefers to glance at the boy's notebook. His homework is already done, and he feels a foreign feeling of relief, unsure of the dangers of getting _too close_ on this heartbroken little family, but he has _fallen_ on the rabbit hole, and aside of feeling trapped due there's no turning back—in breaking a _brother's_ trust he's considered since more than a decade, _something_ ignites him to help them, to wrap them with his cloak of protectiveness and care, to cherish them as the family he's never used to think, but that; at this precise moment, wants it more than anything he's ever desired in his life.

"I got your point, kid." Levi leaves a tired sigh, looking at the little mess they have left on the table, and thinking how much his mother hates disorder on the dining room, so he orders him to wash his hands first.

"I still want an answer Mr. Ackerman." Armin manages to insist for the last time, hearing a door opening at the distance, gentle footsteps against the wood floor that come from a lovely woman of short height and copper—dazzling locks that shine against the sun.

"We're friends, Armin."

_For now._


End file.
